


Feeding the Hungry Need

by Space_Kitten_from_Planet_Pheromone



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 06:19:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Kitten_from_Planet_Pheromone/pseuds/Space_Kitten_from_Planet_Pheromone
Summary: They’re not meant to be, but fate has a way of screwing everything up whenever the 25-year-old teacher sees his 17-year-old student. With just one greeting from his student, every ounce of stress in him melts away. That is, until said student starts following him around like a puppy. Then all stress breaks loose.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally supposed to be in the Saiyuki fandom, but given that I miss the SnK fandom, I decided to change it and put it here. I’m back, y’all. XD

Damn his student and his wiry body and his sense of humor and those large, beryl eyes that devour his every move.

‘I must have him,’ Levi thinks, as Eren walks up to greet him. The boy in question is a tall, lean, and tan boy. Young, too young, Levi thinks, but that’s not what his mind is telling him right now.

“You’re here again,” the teacher says with an air of irritation, clicking his tongue as he rubs the back of his neck with his lesson plan. “You were supposed to be, what, in ninth grade now?”

Eren grins, and gives his former teacher a friendly salute. “I am. But I also want to be in your classes. So...” he shrugs, still giving him with the same lopsided smirk that Levi can’t shake from his mind. “Care to allow me in?”

One of Levi’s veins seem to pop, but can’t help but feel a rush of... _something_ , coursing through his system when he sees one of those stupid _smiles_.

“You know you’re not supposed to be here, right? And correction, it’s _class_ , not classes. You can’t be in all of my classes.” Levi gruffly tries again, but not really trying, because _fuck_ , he actually wants him in his class.

The stupid dog of a student shrugs again, and his grin seems to disappear, replacing it with one of his small smiles that plump his cheeks. “I know. But it’s break time. Plus, I’m exempted from today’s exam. So... let me in?”

Levi bristles in both ire and something he can’t name. He stares at those stupidly teal eyes, that stupidly shaggy mop of brown hair, that stupidly attractive little grin—

Eren rolls his neck, his mouth parting as he does so. With his neck exposed, Levi can’t help but drift his eyes to that tempting Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

That stupidly developing jawline and those stupidly captivating stares that sometimes pierce Levi in place make his neck itch. The expanse of skin widens as the slightest dip of his collarbones peek through the material of his buttondown, white uniform, and Levi’s fingers twitch, wanting to trace the pads of his forefinger down that alluring neck—

“Yeah, sure,” Levi says dumbly, looking away and wiping a wee bit of his drool from his lip. He looks at his student from the corner of his eye, and feels his mouth go dry. “Get in,” he groans out as he slides the door open, “don’t give out answers like last time.”

Eren laughs, bites his lip, and sways as he enters the classroom and sits on his favorite spot—right in front of the teacher’s desk with their desks only a few millimeters away.

Levi grits his teeth and hisses under his breath as he slams the lesson plan on the table.

Eren leans back, smirks, and places one leg on his knee, the other one resting against the armrest—

—his unspoken message reaches his teacher.

And Levi looks away from the indecent display, feeling heat pool between his legs.

Minutes go by and the students pour in, some chattering, most of them hollering, some quietly entering and bowing to their teacher before they take their seats.

“Stand up.”

Levi’s quiet voice rings loud in the room. All chairs scrape on the floors as the class stood with their arms on their sides, some looking down, some looking straight at their teacher’s face.

Eren, however, stands with his lips parted, a knowing smile playing underneath an innocent façade. His fingers curl and uncurl on his sides, his foot taps in impatience. His throat bobs as his shoulders quiver from what Levi can only deem as excitement.

“Bow.”

The students deeply bow their heads in unison, save for Eren, who merely does a slight bow of his upper body.

All the while, he keeps eye contact with his teacher, neither of them looking away. Bright beryl at shining silver.

A shiver runs down Levi’s spine.

“Sit.”

They do so in perfect unison, save for Eren, who takes his time in sitting down.

The class is quick to take notice of their upperclassman sitting in their room.

“Teacher,” says one student, who raises his hand as he eyes the languid Eren twirling a pencil in hand. “Why is he here again?”

Levi has already faced the board, writing down his lecture from memory. He takes time in processing an answer that won’t involve spilling his expletives so early in the morning.

“Teacher?” the voice calls out again.

His hand glides smoothly across the board, the chalk drying out his fingers as quickly as he writes.

“Teacher, why is this upperclassman here? It’s been a month already!”

He presses the chalk a bit too hard as he finishes writing a sentence.

“Teacher, he should’ve been in the next building, right? He already passed the test for the ninth grade, so why’s he still here?”

He writes a word a bit too quick, and the chalk snaps, its fallen half of a corpse leaving dust on the floor.

He bends over to pick it up—he hates messes like this, hates the chalk dust on his clothes and shoes even more—and throws it on his desk without even looking back. It lands and rolls to the desk’s edge, rolling straight to Eren’s desk.

“Why?” Eren questions with a half-smile, toying with the broken piece of chalk in between his quickly drying fingers. “It didn’t bother you when I was still your classmate, right? So why are you bitching about it now?”

Levi holds his breath. He himself shouldn’t be cursing, shouldn’t be tolerating cursing in the classroom, but here he is, tolerating cursing.

“That was that, this is this! You shouldn’t even be here anymore, prick!”

“The fuck is your problem, you snitch?” Eren finally cranes his neck and drapes his arm on the back of the armchair, his fingers still toying with the piece of chalk slowly crumbling under his hold. “You jealous because I skipped a grade yet still decide to return here?” He glares at his—former—classmate, a pale, short-haired blonde with a loud mouth keen on rubbing everyone the wrong way.

Levi keeps writing on the board.

“Of course I’m fucking _jealous_ , you butt monkey! You get to be in fucking grade nine _and_ grade eight at the same time! You’re fucking _unfair!_ ”

Some of her classmates sitting beside her scrape their chairs away as subtly as they can, avoiding any eye contact from the fiery girl.

“Ms. Dreyse, could you shut your mouth?”

All eyes fall on Levi, who looks eager to murder everyone on the first period of class within five minutes.

The girl tries to talk back, but the teacher already has a pen in hand, twirling it higher and higher.

She bows her head and mutters a sorry excuse for an apology, earning a snort from her former classmate.

“Now that everyone’s settled, get your notebooks and start writing. This activity should’ve been done a week ago if you hadn’t started procrastinating because it was Golden Week. Now that things are back to normal, start writing.”

One student raises his hand—

“ _Start_. _Writing_.”

—and lowers his hand slowly.

The class fumbles to get their things on the table, others try to talk to their seatmates, asking them where their notebooks have gone. The fiery girl keeps sneaking dirty looks at Eren, who has settled on leaning back on his seat and crosses his legs once more, smiling at their completely-not-flustered teacher.

Levi sits down behind the desk with his hands clasped, covering his mouth as he eyes everyone with a sharp gaze, and purposefully avoiding the stares of one particular student.

“Teacher,” Eren starts, leaning towards the man with a tiny smirk, “how about I do something, too? Can I watch something?”

Levi clicks his tongue, irritated as a rumbling snarl slips past his lips, “You’re already watching.”

Eren pauses, raises a brow at him, and his smirk widens. Leaning back onto his chair, he idly hums, the sparkle in his golden eyes dancing as he rakes in his teacher’s form.

Levi tries to brush off his relentless student’s stare by burying his nose in a pile of unchecked papers. Being an eighth grade History teacher has its ups and downs, and recently, those ups and downs are battling against each other.

Ups—he gets to teach what he likes.

Downs... well—

Eren bites his inner cheek and lip as he toys with the piece of chalk in his hand, the pads of his fingers gliding and circling down the little cylinder.

—downs: he can’t focus on his task because of his stupidly stubborn student.

He sighs, and tries reading the first paper on the huge stack on his table. Within seconds, he loses focus and interest, the words becoming blurred and garbled.

Fuck those stupidly large eyes.

He closes his eyes, mentally curses all the gods he can think of, and tries again.

“Eren, could you please stop staring?” he hisses low enough for only Eren to hear.

“But you told me I could watch,” the student answers with a mockingly coy smile and a bite of his lower lip.

“I didn’t mean _me_ ,” Levi breathes in a hiss, holding his pen just a tad tighter.

He knows he can only control the actions of his—former—student to a certain degree, but _fuck_ , he wants to slam a table on Eren’s head—

Eren uncrosses his legs, spreading them unnecessarily wide while smiling and toying with that stupid chalk.

—or maybe slam Eren on a table.

He checks his watch. It’s only been _five fucking minutes_.

Well, fuck.

“You didn’t elaborate,” Eren says, that devious smile dripping from his whispered words.

Levi almost _groans_.

He ignores his student, and writes on his lesson plan once more.

The minutes tick by, and Levi has to drown the ticking by scratching his pen harder on the paper. Eren stares at him still, observing every minute move, every microexpression, every intake of breath, and Levi does a fine job of controlling any sound tumbling from his throat.

More minutes pass by—15, as seen on the wall clock—and Levi gets into a trance of completing his weekly plan. He has even managed to block out Eren’s intense stare within a few minutes. That’s got to be a record.

Half an hour passes, and Levi puts his pen down.

“Pass your papers.”

Some students look shocked, others calm, and one opens their mouth to speak.

“ _Pass_. _Your_. _Papers_.”

They obey. The sound of papers shuffling and hushed whispers reverberate in class.

“Eren. Collect them.”

Eren shrugs with a carefree smile, and does as he’s told. Once he gets to the fiery blonde, his smile drops. “Paper.”

The girl glares at him, pouting. He can see a bit of a fang peeking when she speaks. “Why are you here? Go back to your building.”

Eren releases a long sigh, “Not until first period is over. Now, hand me your paper.”

The girl peeks at Levi, who’s hunched over his desk, reading a book about small animals. She tuts, and hands her paper over without a word.

“Thanks,” Eren says, his voice clipped, and goes over to the rest of the row. Once he places all the papers on Levi’s table, he sits back on his chair and smiles with his hands clasped neatly on the desk.

The very picture of a student sucking up to his teacher.

Levi pauses his thought, and his brain immediately comes up with something inappropriate.

 _Bad brain. Bad_.

So he clears his throat and stands up, makes them recite highlights from each paper that has been passed.

Some students groan and sink lower into their seats. Some look at different parts of the room, focusing and trying to remember what they have written down.

Eren sits back on his chair, and copies the lecture instead.

Levi goes around the room, calling anyone he lands his eyes on. Never mind that they’re prepared or not, what matters is that they have something to say, it doesn’t matter if their statements are in their paper or not.

He’s kind of lenient like that.

“Ms. Dreyse,” the teacher says, “what can you say about your essay?” He says it with an air of authority—one eyebrow raised and tapping a pen on his palm. The girl groans and looks away, her mouth curls in a forced smile with too much teeth, stretching her freckle-ridden cheeks, rubbing her palms in an effort to soothe her nerves.

Eren almost laughs.

“Uh, it’s all... in the paper?” she asks, finally looking up with a ray of hope, only for it to be crushed when she sees Levi snarl and roll his eyes to high heaven. She hears him mutter a curse, and moves on to the next student.

This goes on for the rest of the hour, until everyone has had their fair share. Dreyse becomes the last one to be called again, and when it all ends, Levi finally wraps up his lesson with a whole page of hastily scribbled numbers next to his students’ names.

“Tomorrow, make sure you give me answers that are fit for an eighth grader. The answers you gave me were shit.”

And there it is. The usual Mr. Levi Ackerman swear.

Some students laugh, some bow their heads in shame, some look at him and smile sheepishly. Levi sighs and tells them to stand. And when they do, they bow, bidding him with a monotone goodbye for the day.

Levi leaves the room with the sliding door open. He mentally counts to three before he hears the telltale rattling of a chair and a desk, followed by clothes shuffling against the fabric of a backpack, and finally, the rapid strides from too-noisy feet and the sound of the sliding door shutting behind—

“Teacher, let me help.”

Levi sighs, and turns to look at him with mild annoyance. “I only have my lesson plan and a notebook with me. This shit’s not heavy.” His voice tells tiredness, but the upward curl of his lips tell amusement.

Eren stops mid-stride, “Oh.” He looks at the notebook and the lesson plan in his teacher’s hand, tries to assess if he can have any sort of flimsy excuse to stay with him longer—

“Can’t think of any, can you?”

Eren blinks, and realizes he has probably looked too pensive, because Levi looks amused, if that little twitch from his jaw is any indication.

Levi tries again, “You ran out of chances to stay longer with me. You can go to your building now.”

The student tries and fails to conceal the hurt that briefly crosses his face, but he knows. His teacher has noticed it. It’s a small expression—a little twitch from under his right eye, a quiet click of the tongue, and an overall face scrunched in dismay.

“Well,” Eren says in a breathless voice, struggling to smile albeit it never reaches his eyes. “I’ll go to you again tomorrow, Teacher.” Eren bows while he smiles a tad too forced, and Levi swallows a lump in his throat.

He wants to say something, but decides against it. So Levi nods and briefly pats him on the head. “Take care on your way there,” he murmurs, his words a quiet breath of life to Eren’s simmering flame.

The student looks up. Levi has yet to remove his hand. Eren beams wide.

“I will,” the teal-eyed teen whispers back. It is a fun little game they have created, talking quietly in the already quiet hallway. It’s like they share a secret only the two of them know. It’s fun. It’s exhilarating. It’s—

“Mr. Levi, there you are!”

The large, warm hand resting on Eren’s head quickly slides away from his auburn locks as another teacher, Mr. Smith, jogs his way to them.

—it’s _dangerous_.

Eren ducks under Levi’s arm, and mouths a quiet ‘bye’ to him before grinning.

Levi gives him a silent wave and nod, and then he’s gone.

“Mr. Levi, hi! It’s almost time for your next period, I know, but—“

Mr. Smith speaks to him, not really understanding what he’s saying. He nods absentmindedly as he looks far ahead, to where his student has gone.

* * *

Levi spends his break time eating while reading classical literature novels he had borrowed from one of the teachers. He chews on a celery stick as he turns a page, mulling over the flowing script on paper.

At one point, he wonders how he had ended up in a predicament, and mentally curses all the gods he knows.

The words blur as he ponders over anything and everything.

Having a co-worker crush on you is one thing, having a student crush on you is another, but having the teacher crush on the student crushing on said teacher is on a whole new and entirely forbidden level.

“ _Fucking shit,_ ” he mutters, and hears a cough from behind him. Craning his neck, he sees Ms. Hange, grinning at him with her usual manic self.

“Having trouble understanding haiku again?”

Levi tuts, gives her the finger, and she laughs. Figures. “None of your business, Four-Eyes.”

“Oh, it is _so_ my business. You see, that is _my_ book you’re holding.” She gives him another smile as she takes a seat in front of him. It’s the smile that’s sure to annoy him to no end. Levi rolls his eyes.

“That shit won’t work on me. I’m not giving you any of my dirt this time.” He smirks when she snaps her fingers in a mock gesture of defeat. He falls silent, toys with the rim of his teacup sitting beside the plate of celery sticks. “It’s complicated.”

“What is?” she asks, and boy, does she make everything sound absolutely interesting when she widens her eyes like that. And her wide grin is back. He knows he’s about to crumble in defeat.

He really can’t keep his mouth shut if she’s around.

“It’s a new thing…”

“A new love? You found someone? Is it Mr. Smith? I knew it, you finally realized he’s hot, didn’t you? Ooh, give me the _deets!_ ”

He slaps his palm to her noisy mouth, lowers his voice as a teacher passes by. “Shut _up_ , Hange, it’s not _Smith_.”

Her brows furrow and she cocks her head to one side, “It’s not Smit’?” She tuts, removes his hand from her mouth and leans closer to him, “It’s not Smith?”

“Fuck _no_ —” he denies, shakes his head in vehemence, and glares at Mr. Smith’s retreating figure. “It’s… a… well—”

Hange blinks, waits in anticipation, and, realizing her friend is going to stall for the longest time possible, she leans back into the chair and sighs, “Levi, I don’t care if it’s someone of the same sex or of the female sex, I mean, unless it’s an alien you’re in love with, then you’re going to have a problem.”

“—it’s a student.”

Hange blinks, “A what?”

* * *

Eren twirls his pen around as his teacher writes down the homework on the blackboard. His legs feel restless, itching to take off and go somewhere far from his building.

Beside him, his best friend Armin notices Eren tipping his chair back and forth, his eyes looking distant. He eyes the board, and after noticing that the teacher won’t turn around, he taps Eren on his arm. “What’s up?” he whispers, “You have to pee?”

Eren scoffs, shakes his head with a smile, and leans to his friend, lowering his voice in a hiss, “No, Armin. I don’t need to pee. It’s—it’s _him_.”

Armin tilts his head, studies the wide smile now blooming on Eren’s face, and nods with his mouth slack, “Mr. Berner? What about him?”

Eren snaps his neck to his friend, offended, “What? _No_. Not him. _Him._ ” He gestures his palm facing downwards and slides it just below his shoulder, and Armin nods slowly.

“ _Oh,_ ” he whispers, “Mr. _Ackerman_ —” He stops when Eren nudges him a bit to roughly on the arm with his elbow.

“Don’t say it out loud,” he hisses. “Yeah, _him_. I saw him again.”

“ _Because you keep going to his class._ ”

“ _Only because I want to learn more._ ”

“ _You mean only because you want to learn more about him?_ ”

“ _The lesson is not about_ him _, Armin. It’s about_ history _._ ”

“ _Uh huh. And since when did you take interest in history?_ ”

Mr. Berner turns around, Armin and Eren retreat to their seats, and he smiles to the class.

Today’s class monitor tells them to stand. The class stands. “Bow.” The class bows. Mr. Berner leaves, and the class erupts in a cacophony of noise once more. Armin and Eren pull their chairs closer.

“I heard he’s new but strict. How did you get by him?” Armin asks, his blue eyes wide and smiling, and Eren starts talking, about how his new teacher was small, handsome and pale, curses a lot, has a bit of an OCD, but not afraid to get his hands dirty with chalk, and earns all the students’ admiration for being ‘the cool teacher’ that curses in that deep, scratchy voice of his—

“Eren, I’m pretty sure you made that one up yourself.”

“I know, Armin, but still. It’s true. I can’t describe his voice, it sounds gravelly—”

Between them, a girl sits writing down the homework on the board. “And does this teacher allow you to be in his class?” she asks, finally looking up from her notes. She looks disinterested, but her dark brown eyes betray her as she openly stares at Eren.

Eren smirks, looks at the floor, and bites his lip, “Yeah. I mean, I was his student, so…”

She sets her pencil on the desk, her mouth agape, and scoffs, “Eren, you can’t stay there. What if another teacher sees you there, then you’ll be in trouble for being in a class that you’re not supposed to be in anymore!”

Eren’s face twists in disdain, “What’s your problem, Mikasa? Mr. Levi says it’s fine, so it’s fine.”

“You call him by his _name?_ ” Armin and Mikasa asked in a shocked unison.

“Oh dear—Eren. You call him by his name? And he’s okay with that?” Armin asks, his eyes wide as he looks close to panicking. Eren shrugs.

“Yeah, he says it’s okay to call him that. So we do. Well, not _everyone_ calls him by his first name. Some call him by his surname, but it’s longer, so…”

Mikasa can’t take it anymore, so she does what she does best—lecturing Eren about the horrors of pursuing a romantic relationship with a teacher. “I know you, Eren. You tell your feelings as it is and you have no filter. That’s okay, but this time, it’s a _teacher_. You have to be careful with what you say! One wrong word and the both of you can get kicked out for being indecent! Especially on Mr. Ackerman’s part, because he’s the older one!”

“Mikasa,” Eren laughs out, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand, “Just because you and him have the same surname doesn’t mean you have to jinx him, alright? I know what I’m doing—”

“And I _know_ what you’re trying to say. You think everything will be in control if you stay in control, but that’s the thing, Eren. You don’t _keep_ control. Remember what happened to Jean?”

Eren pouts, glares at her, and taps his pen on the desk, “That was because he kept trying to go on a date with you. Besides, the bone in his nose got reattached, right?”

“That’s not the point, Eren. You can’t keep things in control. And from what I’ve heard from you, he can’t keep his control either if he curses a lot and says what he thinks all the time.”

Eren pouts and says nothing more as the next period starts.

In comes their homeroom teacher, happy-go-lucky-and-insane Ms. Hange Zoë, strutting in with a diorama in her arms. “Good day, everyone! …nope. No need to stand and bow, Sasha. All of you just sit down,” she beams at the class as she puts down her diorama on the desk. She claps her hands, takes attendance one by one, and hums when she reads one particular name, “Mr. Eren Yeager?”

“Yes!”

She looks up from the glasses slipping to her nose, and smiles from ear to ear, biting back a small laugh that spills from her closed lips, “Tee hee. Hello to you, too, Eren. Okay, next! …Ms. Ymir…? Is she here?”

Armin taps Eren on the shoulder and nods to Ms. Hange, “What was that all about?”

To this, Eren shrugs, and looks back at Mikasa and Armin, “Dunno.”

* * *

Levi paces his room as he drinks his tea in a mug. His jaws are clenched and tense, feels his stomach twist and turn with each step, and he feels short of breath—

His phone dings from the bed, and he jumps on it with a shivering hand, careful to place the mug back on the dresser. He had talked to Hange earlier on their way home, had talked about how Eren is doing on her class—Science—and how she had told him she hadn’t noticed it before. The faraway stares, the forlorn sighs, the restlessness right before break time starts. She had immediately assumed it was because Eren was entering the ‘minefield phase of being a teenager’—and Levi supposes he is in one, but still—

He flicks the screen open, bites his smile away as he opens Hange’s message.

[ _Cool. Got his account name on me of course. Being my student and all that. Here it is._ ] Below is a link to Eren’s personal social media page, and, with a sweaty thumb, he clicks on it, opening a new app and a window to load. He types a response.

[ _Thanks, Hange. Next round of drinks is on me. And by drinking, I mean it’s just you._ ]

Five seconds later, Hange responses with an emoticon of a heart and what he assumes is a wide smile from the devil, [ _I’ll take your word on that, Captain._ ]

[ _Stop calling me that. Our archery club years was over 10 years ago. Stop bringing it up._ ]

[ _But it’s fun to call you Captain, Captain. You were so small! Well, still small, but you know. Tee hee._ ]

[ _Fuck you, Four-Eyes._ ]

[ _Squee!_ ]

Levi sighs and goes back to the app where Eren’s page loads. He bites his lip when it completes. And saves the profile picture immediately.

There on the screen was a close-up picture of Eren, showcasing his ridiculously large eyes with the most startling shade of blue and green mixed together. Levi tries to make out if it’s enhanced in any way, but finds none. Even if it has been enhanced, he doesn’t care, those eyes are breathtaking to look at. He zooms in on the picture, sees the reflection on those teal eyes. He notices Eren has held the phone sideways, and that’s all he can see.

Where was the picture taken, he wonders—was it in his room, in the classroom, in a park?

He can’t tell. But—

“God bless his parents,” he sighs, and swipes to the next pictures—a total of six in all, all various objects in various states of close-ups. There’s one with a picture with just Eren’s face—Levi saves that immediately—there’s also one with a picture of a pair of shoes, one with his friends Mikasa and Armin, one with a picture of him cradling his chin in his hand while in the classroom. “Armin must have taken this, heh.”

He swipes right again, and chokes on his spit.

There, on the screen, decked in only a loose pair of dark green boxers, is a tan and fit Eren, splashing the sea foam away with his lanky arms. Beside him stands Armin with his hands up to his face, shielding himself from the water being splashed on him. He feels his mouth go dry and his breathing run short, his heart thumping against his ribs as his eyes rake over the expanse of Eren’s flesh adorned by rivulets of water and blessed by the gods of puberty and all things young—

He bites his lip and rolls over, and upon looking down, he sees he’s quite young there, too.

He groans as his pants graze his now sensitive skin, itching for any form of release. He denies himself as his thumb glides on the screen, saving the picture for a future use.

He contemplates about his next move—too soon, he thinks, but he can’t help it, he wants what he wants, and he wants Eren.

He lets out a shaky sigh, one that relieves and constricts him at the same time. Damn Hange for egging him on. Damn these stupid hormones that should’ve died with him when he turned 20. Damn that stupid boy and that stupid body and his stupid devil-may-care attitude that draws in wanted and unwanted attention alike. He hisses a breath and holds it there, curses the heavens, and drags the heel of his palm down his aching dick, letting out a grateful and shuddering breath.

A tear slips down his temple as his fingers splay, claw, and rake on his need. His staccato breaths slip past his parted lips as his eyes close shut, keening in a voiceless want. The phone slips from his other hand as he pulls and tugs on his hair, and his back arches off the bed as he feels wetness coming onto his sweaty palm. He mouths his student’s name, and another tear slips past his temple. Another, and another, all the while, he pumps himself into completion, uncaring for the noises and the whines he’s making. Releasing his hold on his hair, he bites onto his wrist as he strokes himself tight and hard, twisting and rolling his fingers around the head of his weeping cock as he imagines Eren’s hand pumping him—

It’s wrong. Completely wrong. A teacher fantasizing about a student. So wrong. But the wrongness of it all sends Levi into a haze of want, trying to attain what he cannot have. He has never met anyone who could make him come with just his presence, not even the people at work, not even that tall and muscular Mr. Smith could make him come with just his presence. But this teenager, this _boy_ —

Just one look at him and he goes wet, already wanting to go down on his knees and suck him dry right in front of the class.

He moans, cries in frustration, and snaps his hips up as he comes, Eren’s name painting his lips.

He pulls his hand from his slacks, sees the come dripping there, and mindlessly licks it off his digits one by one. Once done, he lets out a sigh, lets his eyes drift close.

He knows he should be feeling disgusted, repulsed, aghast at the idea of thinking of boning someone half his age, and his student, no less, but _fuck_ —

He regrets nothing, and the wrongness of it all makes it feel _so_ right.

He wipes his hand on his black slacks—the only thing that he regrets immediately—dreams of his new favorite fantasy—having his (technically) former student all to himself.

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Levi wakes up to the sound of his phone alarm blaring on his ears. In a daze, he groans, and stares at the ceiling, mentally complaining about going to work. A daily occurrence after working for half a year in public school—you start to hate everything even more. His head lolls to one side, begrudgingly waking up all his appendages that are too lazy to move, and remembers his hand that had been soaked in come and spit last night.

He winces as he opens his eyes, cringing upon forgetting to turn off the light—a waste of electricity, he laments. Looking at his hand, he remembers the things he did, the scenarios he imagined, and he takes his phone with the hand unsoiled by come.

Three messages from Hange first thing in the morning. All of them with an interval of an hour. Of course.

[ _Did you see it? Did you LIKE it? Tell me!_ ]

[ _You probably liked it. I know your tastes. The tall and lean ones. God, Levi, have you seen that photo with him on the beach? NGL, he’s a fine specimen. Mind if I put him up on display when I discuss anatomy in class? :D_ ]

[ _Yeah you def saw it. Sleeping now, aren’t ya? S’okay. Can’t blame ya for liking the kid. Emphasis on the kid, because, you know, he’s a kid. Give him one more year, okay?_ ]

Levi groans, his eyes still listless as he takes in his surroundings one teary blink at a time. It’s the first time he has deliberately neglected to clean up before he slept, and he feels like going on a slope down to being sloppy. He rolls over, yawning and stretching his arms and legs.

“One more year, Hange. You’re asking too much of me…”

* * *

Today has been uneventful. Lessons have come and gone. Even today’s lunch had been dull, and his tea had gone cold quicker than he expected this morning. The only reprieve he had was seeing his—unfortunately—favorite student, even if that student is not technically his anymore.

Heh. _His_. What a funny word.

He wipes the smirk from his face as he exits the school with a small skip in his step. Shuffling his bag on his shoulder, he fails to hear someone calling him for some time.

“—vi! Mr. Levi!”

The aforementioned teacher’s brow furrows. He hates it when someone calls him when he’s finally out of the school grounds. It’s a nuisance. So he ignores it and walks faster.

“Mr. Levi, wait up!”

Levi sighs, stops, and turns around. This better be good—

—oh.

“Hah—Mr. Levi. I—hah—you sure walk fast for someone so small—hah—”

Levi’s eye twitches. If this were any other student, he would’ve kicked them in the nuts there and then—not really, but a quick grind of his elbow to his head may suffice—but this isn’t any other student.

It’s Eren fucking Yeager, with his panting, sweat-slicked face and sweat-slicked muscles glowing under the setting sun.

Levi idly wonders, what kind of excuse can he say to take his camera out and take a picture of him?

“What?” Levi decides to play it cool instead and curl his lips into what he hopes is a scowl and not a smile he tries to repress. No need to rush over things that are unlikely to happen.

“Can I go with you until the train station?”

Levi’s frown deepens, “Your way home is the opposite way. You’re completely out of your way.”

The tall teen shrugs, smiling widely still. Levi can’t get over how a 17-year-old high school student is fucking taller than a 25-year-old teacher. It’s unfair!

“It’s okay. I have to go to the bookstore today, anyway.”

Levi takes in a breath, and almost comments that the bookstore comes first before the train station, but decides against it, and nods instead. “Don’t complain if you get tired,” he scoffs with a tiny smile, and Eren laughs.

“With you, Sir, I’ll never get tired!”

Levi gulps, looks away from Eren as he walks, and hopes he hasn’t blushed, one that probably has crept down to his neck from hearing that comment and seeing that bright smile.

“Idiot,” he mutters as he walks faster, and bites his inner lip as Eren laughs louder and jogs over to him, keeping up with his speed.

The mood is light, with the two of them talking about anything and everything they can think of—games and comics, mostly. Since they have initially bonded over it—Eren found it out first, after seeing a bobblehead of an antihero on his desk—it’s the safest territory to talk in.

At one point, they started talking about strategies to defeat the final bosses in some of the games they play. Eren has gotten really stoked about talking about it that he almost tripped if it weren’t for Levi reaching out to his sleeve to stop him from falling face first onto the pavement.

Eren blushes. Looks away while apologizing. Levi files away his embarrassed face in his memory. He decides he likes seeing this side of his student. He almost laughs, but stops it. he doesn’t want Eren to feel awkward around him.

“So, about defeating the Deathclaw—”

“Just lure it with mines and shoot at the head and hope for the best. Well, that’s how I did it, anyway,” Levi shrugs, feeling his heart grow light. He likes this feeling. Wants to preserve it as long as he can.

He chucks his hands in his slacks and fights against his want to hold his student’s hand. He knows he shouldn’t do it. He’s in uniform. They’re in public. So he doesn’t. He glances at Eren, and notices he’s been looking at him with the same wide smile.

Levi immediately looks away—curse that smile!—and knows that Eren has seen the blush creeping to his ears.

“Mr. Levi, are you okay? You look a little red—”

Levi bows his head further, inching away from his teasing student. He gives in, however, gives him a meek ‘no’ when Eren keeps his wrist in a light touch—

A soft pair of lips grazes the tender skin of Levi’s suddenly warm wrist—

The sound of the clanging train tracks push the two of them out of their short-lived spell, and Levi feels his heart sink.

“The train station,” Levi lets out in a quiet lament, and his shoulders droop. He doesn’t hear Eren speak, and when he looks at him, he realizes he has yet to be released from the warm confines of a welcoming hand. “Um,” he starts, his voice a little too weak for his liking. “We’re here now,” he breathes, looking at a sorrowful-looking Eren in the eye.

“So I see,” Eren says just as wistful as Levi had. “Well, um,” he forces a smile that doesn’t quite reach his ears, and purposefully ignores his hold on his teacher’s wrist. “We already passed the bookstore while we talked, so…” He decides to idly rub his thumb on the jutting bones on Levi’s slim but strong wrist. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a class with your—former—class tomorrow, you know. We only meet four times a week,” Levi lets his words ring in a hollow laugh, and frowns when Eren puts his hand down, but doesn’t let him go.

“Oh. Right.” The words feel empty, as if Eren’s energy is suddenly depleted from hearing he can’t see his teacher tomorrow. He bows his head low, appears to mull over something, and then perks up as he looks at Levi with renewed vigor. “I know! I’ll give you my account!”

“Eh?”

Not quite getting what he means, Eren quickly lets go of Levi’s wrist—something Levi mentally laments on—and takes out his phone, cursing as it almost falls from his hand and catching it at the last moment. He flicks the screen open, smiling widely as he types something on his notepad.

“Here you go,” Eren beams, his teal eyes sparkling under the glow of the lampposts. “I’ll give you my account and my number! That… that is okay, right?”

Levi swallows the words he wants to blurt out in the open. Okay? Of course it’s not okay! Contacting a student outside of school hours about idle talk and personal problems has never been okay! All of this speaks a giant red flag waving and waiting to hit him right in the face, waiting for a disaster that’ll inevitably happen—!

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

Well, _fuck me sideways and call me daddy_.

Eren pumps his fist and whoops in glee, and fails to stop his grin from widening from ear to ear. “Thank you so much!” he giggles, and Levi’s mouth goes slack from seeing those beryl eyes shine bright in happiness, and from seeing the stretch and plumpness of his cheeks as he smiles broadly—and to think that the cause of it all is him.

“What have I done to deserve this…?”

Eren blinks, “I’m sorry, what?”

Levi jolts and snaps from his reverie, “Oh, nothing. Just talking to myself. I—” He does it again, looking away from that piercing stare. He feels himself melt under those teal eyes. “I’ll take a picture of it, then.” He takes out his phone and does just that, ignoring the return of Eren’s smile.

“Mr. Levi. Your phone is like, really, really small.”

Levi’s brow twitches as he saves the screenshot. “Keep talking like that and I’ll block you before we even talk online.”

Eren chortles as he puts his phone back in his pocket, “No, please don’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

They stop, staring at each other with pursed lips and stern eyes—

—and they snort, chortle, and burst out laughing in the middle of the street, until tears of mirth form in the corners of their eyes, their shoulders shaking and their bellies aching.

When they stop, their smiles remain, painting their faces in a warm glow.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you online sometime? Probably the weekend, since…” Levi shrugs. “There’s still one day of class and I’ll be busy.”

Eren clamps his lips, still fighting back his grin, and nods with enthusiasm. “The weekend. Right. Sure. Um. I’ll—wait, then, Mr. Levi. Um. Anytime on the weekend?”

“Sure. I’ll reply when I can. Don’t get mad when I can’t reply right away even if the receipt says I have seen it.”

Eren laughs, “Of course. You’ll be busy doing paperworks and lessons, after all. Oh! Can I come over to your house and help you out?”

Levi looks at him, speechless for a moment, and scoffs, yet failing to suppress his broad smile. Cheeky brat. “You’re pushing your luck, kid,” he jokes, lightly punching him on the shoulder. And Eren nods, covering his grin with his hand.

“I guess I am, huh. Well—I’ll—I’ll talk to you when I get home and uh—you can reply whenever, Sir.” Eren’s words come out almost ragged, like they’ve been dying to be let out in the open for a long time. And judging by the way Eren’s shoulders are shaking, well, Levi guesses he’s right.

Levi casts him a sultry gaze, his narrowed silver eyes telling him of a hidden mischief that he’s about to unfold on the boy in a few hours.

He grins as he waves him goodbye, and in the same breathless manner, he whispers.

“Sure. Looking forward to it, _Mr. Eren_.”

* * *

Levi roams around his house, cleaning everything with gusto at 6AM. His mind has been floating recently, his emotions in a tug-of-war between rational and irrational, the pros and the cons, whether to remain vigilant against a student’s affections or completely abandon society’s rules and expectations, and all of his choices are leading to the heart, the most cunning of them all.

He pauses as he wipes down his windows, looking at few of the people passing by the street. The old ladies go out for a walk, the four-year-olds go out for their first errand alone, the mothers bid their children goodbye for the day. There’s also a couple of what he assumes are highschoolers walking hand in hand—

Levi feels his heart sink, and a tender ache rests there like the stone pitting in his stomach, making him feel weak and useless and battered. He sighs. No way can he do those things out in the open without being judged and labeled as a demon corrupting an innocent soul.

He sighs, sees his breath fogging up his window, and places his forehead against the cool glass. His phone dings, and Levi groans as he swipes the unlock button to his phone.

He opens the blaring, red notification on the app, clicks it, and feels his heart stop as his thumb quivers on the icon on the screen.

It’s Eren. Sending a fucking friend request.

His heart pounds. He bites his lip.

And taps ‘Accept’.

“Time to face another soon-to-be heartbreak, I guess.”

* * *

Levi goes around the room as he oversees his students’ work. They’re doing a diagram of the feudal lords in the shogunate era, and Levi has a hard time trying not to nitpick on the small details when a student does something wrong.

He’s doing his best. He really does. He hasn’t been as explosive on his anger as he had been when he first started five months ago, and, oddly enough, it seems that the instructors have spilled some beans to him, that Mr. Levi Ackerman of the History Department has been gaining a horde of followers from students of different levels. Last time he heard, his ‘popularity’ had reached even the seniors in junior high—from both girls and boys alike.

One time, he had arrived at his desk and had tried not to rain a barrage of curses the moment he had seen a pile of chocolates and letters from various students in eighth grade—some of them are not even his students—

Levi lets out a withheld sigh as he looks over another desk, ignoring the blatant adoring stares of one girl as he passes her by.

He huffs.

He has never wished for any sort of attention. He just—attracts them even without trying. Sometimes he hates it, sometimes he just fucking _loathes_ it.

He goes to his desk, leans against it, and observes his class with his perpetual frown.

He doesn’t get it at all. What do these hormone-overloaded teenagers see in him? His face? Well, maybe. His height? Fuck no. His sense of humor was shitty at best. And he curses a lot.

He senses a pair of eyes staring at him dreamily, and Levi tries and fails not to look.

“Eren, don’t you have class?”

Eren doesn’t move from where he sits, right beside Levi’s desk, facing the class, and has probably been staring him down the whole time Levi was walking around the room. The student has been sitting with that stupid pose on—his chin cradled on the heel of his palm, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes, those stupidly captivating eyes, glazed over with a faraway look as he openly stares at his teacher. He doesn’t even try to hide it.

“Ms. Hange is out on a meeting, so we’re doing self-study. So I’m here,” Eren speaks out in a voice low enough for only him to hear.

“Huh. Didn’t know there was a meeting in the Science department,” Levi grumbles, his arms now crossed and his one brow raised. He knows it’s only a ruse, a flimsy excuse to give Eren a reason to stay even longer in Levi’s class. That shitty four-eyed loon.

Eren shrugs, and this time, he leans back, smiling, “It’s okay. I get to stay longer with you, anyway.”

Levi rolls his eyes, ignoring the sudden rise of his heartbeat, “Figures. Oh. Here.” He takes out a folder from under his lesson plan and hands it to Eren, “So you can do something other than look at me the whole hour.”

Levi hums as he sees Eren perk up and takes out his green pen. “I get to correct these essays?” he asks, sounding hopeful, beaming and all teeth.

Levi curses his stupid spiking heartbeat.

“Yeah, since you have a good eye at correcting things.”

Eren’s grin widens, and starts skimming and scanning all the essays—32 in all. “Gonna start now, Teacher.”

Levi nods, and senses that Eren has seen it even if the student’s head is already down on the desk, writing the errors away. He smiles to himself—that should keep him occupied for a good 15 minutes.

He goes to his desk, sinks on the plush chair that’s too comfortable to sit on, and observes the class. It has become a daily routine for him, to take a seat while the class do their work. He has to preserve every ounce of energy he has if he wants to make it through the end of the day without screaming curses at his last period, when the students become restless and rowdy and just plain shit.

He glances at his (former) student, and taps his fingers. He doesn’t even know if he had broken a rule somewhere in the rulebook of what a teacher mustn’t do to and for a student outside of class hours. All he can think of is—

—they have chatted about everything and nothing. From morning until noon. The same thing happened the following day.

There’s got to be a violation in there somewhere, right?

Minutes pass as Levi mulls over his predicament, and when Eren gives Levi the papers, he smiles. “Here, Teacher,” he breathes, his smile becoming a tad wider when the smaller man looks up with a frown.

“Thanks,” Levi mumbles, and it doesn’t escape his notice when, as Eren hands the papers over to him, their fingers brush, a tanned fingertip gliding over the bumps of a pale knuckle—

—and Levi, for a moment, stops breathing, savors the split second touch, the fleeting warmth, the soothing scrape of a fingernail down the back of his hand, the—

“Mr. Ackerman! Flegel took my phone again!”

—sopping wet and stinky blanket that is his classroom.

“Well, fuck.”

Eren savors the few seconds he has as their fingers glide free from his teacher’s, trying to brush it off under the guise of giving him graded essays. He frowns, and looks back at the minimal fuss, and sighs. “Tell me if there’s anything I missed,” he says as he returns his sights on Levi, his smile returning once more.

The teacher nods and gives him a passive look, but his eyes tell another story.

His silver eyes shine with a promise hidden within as Eren stares him down with the smallest glint of his teeth peeking from his smile.

Levi gulps and hurriedly shoves the papers in his lesson plan, and feels his skin prickle all over when he sees Eren’s hand splay on the desk.

Long and fleshy fingers, with perfect knobs and jutting of bones and knuckles—almost beckoning him to reach out and touch it—

Levi clears his throat, and stands up from his chair, startling Eren. “Mr. Levi?”

The call gets ignored as the poker-faced Levi storms to Flegel’s direction and yanks the phone from his hand without a word, and gives it back to its rightful owner, Historia.

“Get her phone again and I’ll break your fingers,” he hisses without looking at the frightened Flegel. The student may be burly and scary-looking at first, but without a pen in his hand to use as a weapon, Flegel Reeves is a wuss.

Historia smiles at her teacher, thanks him, and puts her phone in her pocket. Levi then returns to the desk, his poker face melting just a tad when he realizes Eren hasn’t moved an inch from where he stood.

“What?” he snarls on instinct, and Eren shakes his head, but bites back a smile blooming on his face.

“Nothing, sir.”

The teacher raises his brows, and shrugs. Leaning against the desk, Levi looks at the class in disinterest—a usual feeling since last week, when the students have started to feel the toll of homework piling up against them. He doesn’t have the slightest ounce of surprise in him anymore—

Levi, however, does manage to keep himself from jolting when Eren leans to him, his face inches to his, and whispers.

“ _You alright?_ ”

The teacher gulps, wills the thought of him getting weak at the knees to go away—he takes a deep breath as he ignores some of the stares directed at him with a blank stare. With a shaky breath and avoiding any eye contact from Eren, Levi huffs, “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eren hums, and Levi feels his eyes lowering to where his hand is, resting against his torso. He does it again, that wave of quiet whispers sliding to his sensitive ear—

“ _You’re shivering. In anger, perhaps?_ ”

“Yes, now stop doing that,” Levi hisses, stomps his foot, and frowns deeper. Then, his eyes land on a student at the back, and he yells, “Take a picture of me one more time and I’ll throw your phone in the hallway, Springer!”

The aforementioned student named Springer quickly puts his phone down, bows in apology, and fidgets in his seat.

“Delete it.”

Springer takes his phone from his pocket and goes to his gallery as Levi approaches him, and shows him the photo—

The teacher snatches the student’s phone and deletes the photo twice. And, for a good measure, deletes Springer’s entire gallery as well.

He throws the phone back to his grief-stricken student amidst the barely concealed snickers Springer receives. “Be thankful I didn’t reset your phone,” Levi huffs, and walks away. Springer, small and bald as he is, seems unaware of the sweat trickling down to his brow—

He mutters his apologies to his teacher, and it falls on uninterested ears as Levi talks to another student about their groupwork. His heart feels lighter the longer he talks, feels it go afloat, as though nothing can ever go wrong—and he hopes nothing ever will.

The class ends with its usual note of monotone normalcy, a sense of routine that has made its way to Levi’s schedule without him noticing it.

He exits the room after bidding them goodbye, and, as usual, he hears the telltale sound of shoe-clad feet clopping behind him.

“Sir!” Eren pants, the smile evident in his voice. Even without seeing his face, Levi just knows.

He turns around with the same passive face he always wears, and sees Eren’s gleeful expression—with wide, sparkling, teal eyes, and slightly flushed cheeks that stretch wider the longer he smiles.

“Yeah?” Levi groans in a lazy droll, hiding his interest behind a blank face. Never. Fuck no. The last time he showed emotion, Levi felt himself almost die. He can’t do that again—

“Sir! Same time again later?”

—shit, _hell no! Remember the last time you cried? You could’ve sworn the whole fucking neighborhood heard how you fucking cried your heart out like someone fucking ripped it apart and smeared its bloody remains on the cold walls—_

“Sure.”

_You!—fucking!—stupid!—idiot!_

Eren beams, and if Levi squints any more, he can see the student’s eyes brimming with what he assumes as happy tears.

Levi feels himself choke on his spit as Eren steps closer, and looks down at him—curse his fucking titanic height over his teacher—and leans close.

Levi feels his face grow warm.

 _Stop. Fucking. Blushing. Shit_.

“Thank you for accepting me.”

“Wha—“

“The request. On KaoHon.”

Levi blinks. Runs his thoughts in overdrive trying to decipher what his student means. And he remembers. Of course he does. How could he forget? They have occupied each other’s time for six hours online over the weekend.

After accepting his student’s friend request last week, Levi had scoured his entire profile in earnest all in one night, even liking and commenting on some of Eren’s posts that day.

And in two, short days, he has beaten himself over on trying to kill his wicked thoughts about his student—

When Levi wants someone, he’ll do anything to get them, as long as the feeling is mutual, of course. No use in trying to hide it if he knows the feeling is mutual. He doesn’t do that petty shit. It’s draining.

And if the feeling is not mutual? Wish them the best with another person and move the fuck on. It’s that simple.

“Oh. Yeah. Um. Sure. Your profile’s nice. You a fan of No Name? I didn’t know that.”

Once again, Eren beams, most likely at the thought that his—most likely—favorite teacher had looked into his profile. Isn’t that what usually happens when you accept someone into your friend list?

“Oh, you uh, looked through my profile, yeah? Um, that’s okay. You can look into it as much as you want. Also. Yeah, sir. No Name has a wide range of sound, so... And the way they perform! It’s so—awesome!”

There it is again, that wide, enthusiastic smile with a tiny jump of joy.

Levi makes a mental note that Eren fucking Yeager basically admits that he likes his entire social media profile to be seen by his teacher.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Levi bites his inner cheek to keep himself from smiling. No good. Musn’t smile. He turns away. Eren follows with a skip in his step, talking a mile a minute as he pours his love for his favorite band out in the open, and Levi, at one point, finally fucking smiles.

“I wonder if they trip on their way to stage with those blindfolds on,” Eren comments out of the blue, and Levi, oh, dark-hearted and sadistic Levi, just has to say something equally dark—

“Most likely they do, but are probably covering it up with their screams on stage. Either that or their blindfolds are really thin and can see through them. It’d probably be sick if they tripped and fell on their mics or something.” Levi snorts at his own joke, cynical and sarcastic like always—and Eren laughs.

A routine, Levi thinks as they walk down the hallway in hushed snickers and chortles. Their banter is becoming routine.

Eren bids Levi goodbye for the day as he returns to his building. Their hour is up—

—and Levi hopes this routine will stay for the rest of the year.

* * *

The cafeteria brims with students’ laughter and occasional sounds of scraping chairs against the floors and people slurping their noodles. In the middle of the hall sits the ninth graders, huddled within their respective sections.

Eren groans as he chows on his egg sandwich, glaring at his grease-smeared notebook. He has already answered most of the questions on his homework, and is struggling on one particular question.

Armin laughs as he watches his friend struggle. He knows Eren will always choose to solve his own problems than beg for Armin to help him. Mikasa, however, keeps holding her hand out to Eren, and always pulls it back at the last moment.

“You don’t have to do this alone, Eren—”

“Not now, Mikasa. I’m almost done—”

“Eren, look,” Armin hisses in his friend’s ear, and points his finger to where a man runs towards Mr. Smith. “Isn’t that _him_?”

Armin could’ve sworn he has just heard Eren’s neck snap up when he immediately sets his sights on Mr. Levi Ackerman, sprinting towards Mr. Erwin Smith while waving some sheets of paper.

“Probably some test papers he forgot,” Eren shrugs, and hums when Mr. Smith greets Mr. Ackerman with a wave. “See? Just some papers,” he says with a laugh as Levi hands the papers over to Mr. Smith, and his smile falters when Mr. Smith, taller and bigger than Eren he is, tries to place a hand on Levi’s shoulder—

—but Levi, sweet, devilish little Levi, steps away immediately with a grimace on his face. He’s not even trying to hide it from the taller man, and Eren feels his heart go light from that gesture, as much as he hates to admit it.

“Why are you smiling?” Mikasa asks Eren, who has gone to forget the question he’s supposed to answer on paper.

The teal-eyed boy blinks, and laughs his smile away. “It’s okay, just thought of something funny,” he says, and glances back to where Mr. Smith now stands alone. Levi, however, seems to be walking around the cafeteria, looking for something—

Eren’s heart leaps from his chest as he notices Levi turn his silver eyes to him.

—or someone.

“ _He’s coming this way, he’s coming this way...!_ ” Armin hisses in barely concealed excitement as he keeps elbowing Eren in the ribs.

“Armin, shut up—act—just act _natural...!_ ” Eren whispers in return without even turning his sights away from his—former—teacher. “Oh, hi, Mr. Levi!” Eren greets with a voice too high-pitched for his own liking.

Mr. Levi smiles, and sees a girl scowling beside Eren. His brow raises, “What you looking at?”

Eren breaks his stare and glances at Mikasa, who openly glares at Levi, and blabs the first thing he thinks of—“She’s my stepsister, she’s—she’s just like that. But she means well. Most of the time.”

Eren swears he has just seen Levi scoff, but he can’t blame him. “Well,” Levi starts, “I ain’t going to do shit to your stepbrother, so there ya go. You can stop stabbing me with your eyes now.” He turns to Eren, huffs as he crosses his arms, “Eren. Are you done with your homework? You have it due in two hours, right?”

Eren glances at his half-assed homework on the table, and looks back at Levi with wide eyes. “Uh, yeah?”

“Well, lemme check it before you submit it. Gotta make sure it’s not like the shit you submitted to me last time.”

Armin snorts beside Eren, and tries to cover it with a cough, but Eren says nothing as he flips the page back to where he had started his homework.

Levi takes the notebook without a word, scans it immediately, and nods as he hums. “It’s decent. It could do better—” The teacher takes out a pen from his pocket, clicks it, and encircles something on it. “You’re having a hard time with this problem, huh,” he tuts, tapping said problem once with his pen. “Here, Google that shit. Your clue’s the encircled one. Good luck.” He hands the notebook back to Eren, who accepts it with two hands as he bows, and Levi smirks. “Report later when it’s handed back to you.”

Levi gives Eren the sight of him licking his upper lip before he turns to walk away with a slight sway of his hips, and, once out of earshot, Armin outright laughs.

“What,” Eren asks, miffed.

Armin, however, guffaws even louder. “Oh, Eren. And I thought you have it bad!” He slaps his thighs and snorts in laughter, an unusual sound coming from the usually reserved boy.

“The fuck is going on? Mikasa, what’s Armin on about?” Eren snaps. Being left out of the loop is one of his biggest pet peeves. Mikasa, however, returns to her leek soup with a passive face.

“That teacher also has it bad for you.”

“Bad what?” Eren asks, looking between Armin and Mikasa. His blond friend keeps chortling to himself, and his stepsister keeps slurping on the soup. “Bad what?!”

Armin wipes the tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes, and feels the great stretch on his cheeks as he explains, “What we’re trying to say is, your teacher also returns your like for him. It’s just not that obvious.”

“Of course it shouldn’t be obvious. He’d be sacked if he hadn’t,” Mikasa groans out, relishing the sound of leeks breaking down in between her teeth. “Eren,” she starts, pointing her chopsticks at her stepbrother, and glares. “Do you really know what you’re doing? You’re playing with fire. You both are. You won’t lose much, but _him_ , oh, he’ll lose a _lot_. Starting with his job and reputation—”

“Okay. Stop. Just. Stop.”

Eren already has his palm out to Mikasa’s face, stopping her from saying anything else. She stops. He starts. “You think I didn’t think this through? You think I didn’t consider his profession and reputation? Mikasa,” he pauses, leans forward, and jabs a finger to his chest, “ _I_ think of everything. It’s the biggest decision I’ve ever made and I’ve never thought about my actions thrice before I actually act them out like I have been doing since I decided to stay in his class.” He takes a deep breath, calms himself down, and looks away. A tense silence hangs over them, and Armin tries to break it.

“Don’t mind Mikasa this time, Eren. It’s fine. Mikasa, he knows what he’s doing.”

“But—“

“Eren _knows_ what he’s doing.”

She stops, and gulps at the stern look in Armin’s eyes. Her jaws clench as she struggles and fails to retort. She clamps her lips, nods to herself as she taps her chopsticks on the bowl, and lets out a withheld sigh.

Armin and Eren do the same, and Eren smiles, tightlipped, as he returns to his food and half-done homework.

They leave the topic at that, and eat in silence.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Fanfic mostly based on a RL event (read: the first scene, I mean). Also, 20 pages for the first chapter. Not bad.


End file.
